Chapter 39 Grey
It needs work,” Mom says as she steps into the kitchen of the cottage in the Hollywood Hills. “The kitchen and bathrooms need updating, but you could do that in a few years. The floors need to be refinished, and the whole thing needs a fresh coat of paint, but it has great bones, great light, and the location is terrific.” Her eyes move over the outdated appliances, the cracked white tile countertops, to me. “That’s what I think, but what’s important is what you think.”
“What you think is important. You know more about this stuff than I do.”
“True,” Mom says. “Let me ask you this: how does this house make you feel?”
I lean against the old fridge and cross my arms, trying to imagine myself living in this small, Spanish-style two-bedroom. It’s not as big as the other sleek, modern homes around here—not by a long shot. But it’s got potential. Room to expand if I ever feel like doing that, and it’s got personality. More importantly, the moment I drove up, I felt something. A kind of rightness. That feeling’s only getting stronger by the second.
Through the window, I see my Realtor wandering around in the backyard, checking her phone so Mom and I can talk. The yard is just a modest grass square framed by overflowing bougainvillea. More space than I need. It’s not like I have a dog. Buy maybe I could get a dog? The prospect makes me smile. I can’t believe I could do that if I wanted to. Suddenly, I see all of it. A couch, a table. My guitar on a stand in the corner of the living room. My mutt asleep at my feet. Sand, from the beach, dusting the floorboards by the front door.
Yep. I can see it. I run a hand over my head. “I think living here will bring me closer to who I want to be.”
Mom’s smile goes wider. “I can’t think of a better reason to buy a home.”
My Realtor seems to be able to smell money in the air. She’s back in less than a minute. “So? Any decision?” she asks.
“Let’s write an offer.”
She hugs me, even though I only just met her a few days ago. And then we start tossing around numbers that give me a stomachache. I’ve already gone through them with my dad, but it’s a lot of greenbacks. I’m not crazy about spending a truckload of money without having income on the way. But this area is only appreciating in value. All signs point to this being a good investment. I guess I’ve come a long way from throwing parties that trash my brother’s place.
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Adam, speak of the devil, probably calling to find out if I’m making an offer. I excuse myself.
“I’m buying it,” I say, as I step into my future bedroom. I move to the window, studying the hills that I’ll be able to see from my bed one day. One day soon. It’s incredible to consider. With the band showcase only two days away, this is becoming a historic week for me.
“What?” Adam says. “Oh, the house. Grey, we need to talk. Something happened over here. Are you listening?”
His voice is reedy and thin. He sounds shaken up. Adam never sounds that way.
“What happened? Is it Skyler? Is she okay?”
“She fainted on set about an hour ago, but she’s fine now. She’s under a doctor’s care, getting some fluids through an IV at the island hospital. We don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but it looks like a combination of stress and dehydration shocked her system.”
“Adam, is she okay?” My body goes hot with adrenaline. My hands ball into fists. “It’s those fucking weight-loss pills. And she’s been losing too much weight.”
“We’re considering everything. Grey, she’s going to be all right.”
He’s telling me this because he knows there are a dozen alarm bells going off inside me right now. Fear. Fear is what’s filling me up. So much it feels like rage. Randomly, Mom’s words come to mind. The things that last are the things that matter.
In the background I hear Garrett’s voice pleading with Adam to hand over the phone. I hear Mia, too. Adam concedes, telling me he’s passing me off for a moment.
“Grey, it’s Garrett—”
“And Mia.”
“We wanted you to know what’s going on, because she asked to talk to you earlier—”
“She’s resting in her room now, but she’s still not herself. And we didn’t want you to worry—”
“What do you mean, ‘she’s still not herself’? Is she okay or isn’t she?”
Silence. Then it’s only Mia on the line. She’s stepped away, somewhere private.
“I’ve never seen her like this. She’s pale, and when I look into her eyes, I don’t see her, you know? It’s like she’s slipped into some tunnel and all I’m getting is this distant echo. I know she’s going to be okay. The doctor is confident about that. But I’m worried about her.”
“I’m coming.”
“No—wait. What did you say?”
“I’ll get on a plane today. Tell her I’m on my way. I’ll call as soon as I can.”
“You don’t have to. We’re on the other side of the continent, and there are a dozen people taking care of her.”
“She’s asking for me. That’s why you called, isn’t it?”
There’s a soft sigh, then Mia says, “I asked her what I could do to help. She told me, ‘Get Grey.’ ”
It’s a heartbreaking thing to hear. I don’t know what it means. What the hell are we to each other? But nothing is going to keep me away from her. Nothing.
I make some quick calculations. It’ll take me a day to get to the Virgin Islands. Even if I’m only there for a day, and turn around and come back, I won’t make it back to Los Angeles in time for the showcase. I feel a slow chill spread through me. It’s not my dream I care about passing on. It’s the guys, the band. This decision affects them, too. But I can only hope they’ll understand. I need to go to her.
“I’m coming, Mia. I’ll call you when I have my flights booked. Tell Sky I’m on my way.”